


Search and Rescue

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And floof!, Did I mention dogs?, John isn't an asshole, M/M, Mary and John still alive, Michael is an abusive ex, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, So many dogs!, Vet!Cas, canine search and rescue, dogs!, sheriff!Dean, spn!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Dean Winchester was half way in love with Castiel Novak, the town vet, who volunteered with the local canine search and rescue. By the time they found little Ben Braeden, Dean was pretty much all the way in love, but Castiel was wary as hell. </p><p>It wasn't until Dean ended up with a rescue dog that they found a connection, and finally Castiel was able to see that Dean was no longer the arrogant boy of his childhood.  </p><p>But these small, sweet steps into forever-love are thrown for a loop when a charming ex-boyfriend of Dean's enters the scene, refusing to take 'no' for an answer. He has everyone fooled.</p><p>Except Cas. </p><p>Will Dean say no again? </p><p>And what will Castiel have to do to protect the man he loves from a past he couldn't run away from?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palominopup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/gifts), [tea_and_cacti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_and_cacti/gifts).



> This work was inspired by a prompt from the ever-amazing Palominopup! Thankyou!
> 
> And Tee, you were my muse! #BEBT family forever!

    He knew he wasn’t allowed outside. It was against the rules. Mommy had to be there. Outside was big though. And it smelled good after the rain.  
    Ben perched on the cushions of the couch and peered over the back, staring out of the window, over the back lawn where it swept down to the forest beyond.  
    He chewed on his lip.  
    His plastic toys were still in the sandpit, all damped down for the night.

    He could go out and play for a while. Mommy wouldn’t mind. She didn’t even have to know!  
    He scampered to the side door, one he knew was quiet. Pausing to put on his rubber boots with the frogs on the toes, he fumbled with the huge doorknob.  
    His eyes opened wide as the hinges squeaked. He tilted his head to listen for Mommy. But she didn’t hear. He was in the clear!  
    Ben scrambled down the steps and headed for the sandpit.

    Lisa yawned and stretched. Frowning, she opened her eyes and peered at the clock beside the bed. She jerked to a sitting position and threw aside her quilt.  
    It was eight o’clock. Ben never let her sleep past six thirty. In wrinkled pyjamas, and bare feet, she ran for her son’s room.  
    Empty.  
    Tears sprang to her eyes. Panic rising white hot in her chest.  
    He was four. Her baby.  
    Confirming her worst fears, her son wasn’t in the house, though the detritus of his toy chest was strewn over the loungeroom floor and she knew she had picked those up last night.  
    “Ben?” she cried out, wondering if he had hidden himself in some game of hide and seek with an imaginary friend and fallen asleep. “Mommy is worried. Where are you, honey?”  
    There was no answering childish cry of delight.  
    She ran through the rest of the rooms and drew to a halt at the sight of the side door wide open, swinging slightly in a faint chilled breeze.  
    Oh no. No.  
    She had locked that last night.  
    Hadn’t she?  
    Her toes curled in protest on the deck as she stared wildly out over the yard.  
    “Ben?” she called again and again.  
    Isolated from town and from the road, Lisa stood in the wild silence of her huge property, clutching her arms around her, tears streaming down her face.

    Dean Winchester gripped Lisa’s shoulder with kindness. “He will be fine, Lise. He just wandered into the forest and got turned around.” His palm scrubbed her arm, while she stared at him blankly, huddled in a chair next to him.  
    “Hey, sheriff?” The interruption from one of his deputies couldn’t have come too soon. He was itching to get going.  
    “Yeah, Garth?” Dean tipped his head toward the gangling man using a forefinger to tip his hat back on his head.  
    “Search and rescue is here.”  
    Dean ignored the tilt of his gut. “Okay, I will be right there. Lisa? Charlie is gonna wait with you, okay? Do you want a cup of tea or something?”  
    “I got this, sheriff.” Charlie pushed him away, shooing him toward the door.  
    Dean headed for the front yard, now holding several cars, and a new truck that had just pulled up. He pressed the heel of his hand into his gut.  
    The man that clambered out of the truck had a ball cap pulled low, the eyes Dean knew to be bright blue covered with sunglasses. He whistled, and a beautiful chocolate lab hopped out and panted happily at his feet.  
    Dean sauntered toward them.  
    “Doc Novak,” he greeted when he was within distance.

    Castiel Novak was the town vet, and coordinator of the volunteer canine search and rescue team for the region. The chocolate lab at his feet was,     Dean knew, called Thor.  
    The doc was achingly handsome. His intriguing combination of ethereal and strength, had Dean’s tongue unable to form complete sentences. He wore grey cargo pants and a battered sweater that merely served to outline his surprising muscle and turn Dean’s brain to mush.  
    Focus, Winchester, he snarled to himself. The guy isn’t interested.  
    “Sheriff Winchester.”  
    Even his voice left Dean reeling. Low, gravelled and sexy as hell. Dean propped his hand on his belt. Speaking of hell. He was in it.  
    “Thanks for getting out here so fast.”  
    “It’s what we do.” Castiel glanced over his shoulder at the two cars that were now pulling in. “Where can we set up?”  
    Dean knew the process by now. They had been through several search and rescues together. They needed a command center to coordinate the dog and human teams.  
    “Up to the house. Lisa says you can set up in the front room. Its got a view of the whole yard.”  
    Castiel yanked two heavy cases out of the bed of his truck, and with ease hefted them as he headed for the house.  
    “Hey buddy,” Dean scrubbed his hand over Thor’s head. The dog slobbered happily and licked his palm. “Ready to find the kid? Huh?”

    The rest of Castiel’s team consisted of Gabe Novak, his older brother, and Ellen and Jo Harvelle, a mother/daughter team of formidable competence. Ellen’s dog was recovering from an abscess and wouldn’t be joining the hunt, so she was setting up base camp while Castiel was coordinating the maps and getting articles of clothing from Lisa for the scent bags.  
    Jo’s German Shepherd, Buddy, gamboled cheerfully with Thor. Gabe had a serious little Australian Shepherd that sat with elegantly crossed paws at his feet while he sorted the tagging equipment for the teams.  
    Dean stood talking quietly with one of his deputies, and glanced up as Castiel approached, a log book in hand.  
    “Sheriff? We are ready to go. We have prepared the sectors we will be walking. Are your deputies ready?”  
    Dean nodded, and glanced at Garth, who beamed brightly. “Sure am, doc.”  
    Benny just tucked his hands in his trousers and nodded.  
    Dean scanned the crowd for his second deputy. She was talking to Jo, her red hair in a sharp knot.  
    “Hey, Anna?” Dean called. “You good to go?”  
    She shot him a grin and a thumbs up.  
    Castiel nodded, and skimmed his notes. “Very well. We can start the briefing.”  
    “And I’m coming.”  
    Castiel glanced up at the sheriff with sharp, narrowed eyes. “Why?”  
    Dean’s jaw hardened, a shard of irritation spiking his temper. “Because I’m sheriff and I said so.”  
    Benny gave him an odd look. Dean sighed.  
    “Because Lisa is an old friend, and I have known Ben since he was a baby. Thought of him out there…” He shook his head. “I’m helping with the search.”  
    “Fine.” Castiel scribbled notes in the log book. “Then I suppose you are with me.” He sounded very put out.  
    “…great,” Dean muttered.  
    “Let’s get the briefing started.” He glanced up at the sky. “Rain’s coming.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had always considered himself reasonably fit. He put a few hours in at the gym each week. He took stairs rather than elevators. He even took foot patrol once or twice a week. But damn. This was hard going.  
Cas was barely breathing more than an even sigh, as he followed Thor into the bush. The guy had tried to explain in the past about air scenting and scent cones and skin rafts, but most of it skimmed over Dean’s head.  
What it really meant, was that Thor spent a lot of time following a trail, might lose it, then have to reset, making them backtrack over ground they had already passed.  
Dean had seen this happen, the dogs searching and sniffing, tracking a little human through this dense forest, his scent ingrained into that smart doggy brain by a dirty sock in a bag. Sometimes they didn’t get there in time, but they usually always got there in the end.  
The handlers all stayed in contact, Cas speaking occasionally into the radio whenever Thor shifted direction, giving constant updates to Ellen, marking their progress with the biodegradable orange tape. He remained resolutely silent when it came to conversation with Dean, keeping up a relentless pace that had Dean trying to hold back his huffing breath while he was forced to keep up.  
“So, uhh,” he attempted to break the frustrating silence. “…how’s Ellen’s dog?”  
“Sherlock is fine. Recovering nicely,” Castiel replied politely enough.  
“Great.” Dean continued, striding a half pace behind the vet. “So how far do you think the kid could have gone?”  
Blue eyes briefly clashed with his. “In the few hours his mother slept unaware, and until now? He could be quite a distance. Or he could be tucked away asleep mere yards inside the treeline.” Castiel shrugged.  
“Unlikely,” Dean said drily. “That kid could run from sun up to sun down.”  
“Then the former it is.”  
They took a break while Thor relieved himself and Castiel poured water into a small collapsible dish for him to lap up.  
“How long can -”  
“Sheriff, I would appreciate it, if we could walk in silence,” Castiel snapped. “Your constant chattering is extremely offputting.”  
Dean drew back, offended. “It was hardly constant.” He flung out a hand. “I have walked an hour and a half without saying a word.”  
“I would prefer you keep it that way.” Castiel kept his head bent down toward the map he had retrieved from his pocket.  
“No, that’s bullshit. You never want to talk to me.”  
Castiel’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”  
“Why? What the hell, Novak?”  
“You don’t remember, do you?” Castiel’s eyes sharpened, and his tone was razor sharp. “Are you that goddamn dense you don’t fucking remember?” His knuckles went white.  
Dean blinked, thrown. “Remember what?”  
Castiel’s mouth curled in a sneer. “High school.”  
Bewildered, Dean tried again. “What about high school?”  
Castiel bunched his hands into fists. “Do me a favour, Dean Winchester, shut the everliving hell up for the rest of this search. Unless you see the kid, don’t say a damn word to me. And I would really, REALLY appreciate it, if you never said a word to me ever again.”  
“No, this is crap!”  
“What are you going to do? Arrest me?”  
“No, jeez. Cas. Wait a moment.” Dean rammed a hand into his hair, spiking the soft, sweaty strands between his fingers. “I honestly have no idea what I did to you in high school. I was a self involved dick back then…and fuck, if I hurt you I’m sorry. But I don’t remember, honest. And I guess that makes it worse. I really didn’t try to hurt anyone…” His voice trailed off, and he scowled.  
Castiel’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted. “Cole Trenton made it quite, quite clear you had-”  
“Cole?” Dean’s eyes widened. “That asshole? What the hell does he have to do with this?”  
Castiel hesitated. “He beat me up. I was what…sixteen? Said the football team didn’t like gay boys and he was a message from Winchester and his boys. He broke my arm and my collarbone.”  
Dean rammed both hands into his hair and stared up at the trees. “Fuck. Cas. God.” When he finally looked back at Cas, he saw beneath the gorgeous, strong features, and remembered the small, slightly chubby teen he had been. Always carrying books. Always studying. Beneath Dean’s notice and gone on to college long before Dean graduated.  
Castiel had drawn in on himself, his shoulders hunched in, his arms crossed over his chest. Again, Dean had a flash back of a kid scurrying alone across the quad between classes, while he and the rest of the team strolled in, usually ten minutes late to every class.  
“I had nothing…NOTHING…to do with that,” Dean said adamantly. “Cas, I promise. I didn’t know. Cole was a fucking asshole. I have arrested him more times than I can count. He’s a fucking bully. Fuck. I had no idea he did that to you. I never asked him. I wouldn’t. Jesus.”  
Castiel looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time in … ever. It was an appraising gaze, as though he were weighing and measuring Dean. Studying his worth, and while perhaps once he was certain of his value, now he wasn’t so sure.  
“I promise,” Dean continued and held out his hand, palm up. “I give you my word. I’m less of a dick than I was in high school, but I was never a total asshole.”  
“Your phrasing is charming.” Castiel began, his gaze brilliant, and the faintest, slightest curve of one corner of his mouth gave Dean hope. That elegant, long fingered hand slid over his and gripped firmly. “But the sincerity is apparent. I am sorry for believing you were an asshole all these years. It would seem you were merely a dick.”  
Dean grinned broadly. “Thanks for listening, Cas. You’re a decent guy.”  
“Yes.” Castiel replied simply. “I am.” He let go of Dean’s hand, gave him a final, considering, look, and called Thor back to his mission, retrieving the slightly chewed water bowl.

Dean’s laughter drew Castiel’s wry glance. He couldn’t help it. The guy was hilarious without meaning to. Or maybe he did. Dean was fascinated, now trailing after the guy with good humour, the tension from earlier dissipated.  
Dean shut up and focused on scrambling down a slope. He finished the last few metres on his ass, and was helped up with a strong grip and a tug of formidable biceps. Thor was snuffling ahead and Castiel went grim.  
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.  
“River ahead,” Castiel’s voice had deepened and darkened with concern. “And Thor still has the trail.”  
“C’mon. Kid wouldn’t go in the river, would he?” Dean hesitated. “Right?”  
“Edges are soft.”  
Dean didn’t reply.  
And though the silence was now easier, it was resolutely in place while they intermittently called out for their tiny quarry.  
“Ben!”  
“Ben?”  
“Ben, c’mon buddy! Time to go home!”

Ben shivered.  
It was too scary out here.  
The bunny had run away and then he got turned around and he was scared.  
He chewed on his lower lip, and stuck his dirty fist in his mouth and sucked on the salty skin. He closed his eyes.  
“Ben!”  
The sound was faint and he opened his eyes. He huddled. Scared.  
Monsters?  
“Ben! C’mon buddy! Mom wants you home! Hey! C’mon!”  
A monster invaded his haven.  
All brown fur and terrifying teeth.  
Ben wailed.

“You hear that?”  
“Thor. Sit.”  
The dog sat. Castiel knelt down and a beatific smile crossed his face. “Hey buddy. You scared? You remember Dean? I have Dean with me. And this is Thor. We have been looking for you. You are safe now.”  
A little grubby creature scarpered from his hole mere metres from the river’s edge and launched himself at Castiel, wrapping tiny arms around his neck.  
Dean met Castiel’s gaze and lifted his radio. “Hey, Ellen? Can you let Lisa know we have Ben. He’s all good. All safe.”  
He watched Castiel murmured soft words to the boy and wrap him in a silver blanket, giving him a small sippee cup of water. Tears burned in his eyes.  
“He’s all good.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean cracked the top of a beer and leaned back on the swing chair that overlooked the overgrown tumble of his childhood backyard. He sighed contentedly and sipped. The cold, bitter brew slid down his throat.   
“Hey baby. I heard you had a big day.” A hand scruffed his hair, and his mom set the swing to rocking as she sat down.   
“We found Lisa Braeden’s boy. He took a wander into the woods.”   
“Aww, I’m so proud.” Mary Winchester leaned back, a glass of wine in hand. She patted him on the thigh before kicking off the swing with the toe of her boot.   
“Where’s Dad?”   
“Just leaving the workshop.”   
They sat in silence for a time, watching as pinpoints of starlight came into sight as twilight gave way to purple dusk.  
Dean broke the silence first. “I spent most of the day with Cas Novak.”   
“Ahh, I like Doctor Novak. He was so wonderful when Scratch got into that fight with the neighbors dog.”  
“Your cat is psychotic, Mom.”   
“She is not. She’s just territorial.” Mary was offended.   
Dean just snorted. “Uh huh.”   
“So Doctor Novak then?” Mary smiled at him.   
Dean shrugged. “We talked.”   
“Oh? About what?”   
“Cleared the air, mostly. He was a couple years ahead of me in high school. One of the guys on the football team beat the hell out of him back then, blamed it on me. So Cas thought I was pretty much a dick.”   
“And he doesn’t think that anymore?” Mary asked mildly.   
“No. He’s …we’re good.”   
The sound of a car pulling in to the driveway had Mary shifting. “Your father’s home. I will go serve up dinner.”   
“I will come in, give you a hand. Then I gotta get going early, finish up some paperwork.”   
Mary linked her hand through Dean’s arm and they headed into the house through the gathering dark.

Dean let himself into his home, skirting the equipment and detritus of the renovations he had been doing and headed for the kitchen. He turned on the kettle and while it made that hollow heating sound, he leaned on the sink and stared over his maltreated backyard with a grimace. The place was a mess. Weeds had long since overtaken what plants might have been there. And he was glad they had just come off winter, because, well, he didn’t really water either.   
He made his cup of tea and headed out to his back deck. He leaned on the railing and contemplated the day.   
Cas Novak occupied most of his thoughts. The guy was really … good. Down to the bones good. Dean felt it. Once they had it out, Cas let down some of that guard and even smiled once or twice, which let a coil of warmth into Dean’s gut.   
He wanted to get to know him. He would get to know him. He only hoped like hell that Cas would feel the same way. He was about to head back inside, the night chill a little much even for his sweater, but was stayed by a small sound. A whine.   
He frowned, and turned on the deck light.   
A dog had come around the side of his house, and had sat, its eyes big limpid pools of reflected light as it shivered and stared up at him hopefully.  
“Hey buddy, where are you from?” Dean strolled to the end of the decking and crouched down.   
The dog flinched submissively, casting its eyes down.   
“Hey now. I’m not gonna hurt you, buddy.” Dean held out his hand. The dog peeked at him again, and struggled forward, visibly shaking.   
Dean could see each rib under the rough fur coat and scowled. There was no collar either. The dog crept near and hesitantly stretch out its neck so it could sniff Dean’s hand.   
Dean let it, before moving slowly to rub under the dog’s chin. There was a moment or two of indecision before the little beastie collapsed on Dean’s boot in fawning happiness. Dean chuckled and gave the dog’s belly a little scratch.   
“Oh, huh. A girl then. Well hey there. So where do you belong?”   
Dean straightened up, cup in hand and looked down at the little dog, who now sat on his boot, staring up at him with adoration.   
He sighed.   
“You had better head back home, kid. Someone is gonna be missing a cutie like you.”   
He headed for the back door, and glanced back. The dog still sat there, staring mutely at him. He scrubbed the back of his neck. It was too late to make phone calls.   
“Come on. I will take you to the vet in the morning. See if someone is missing their pet.”   
He opened the door, and whistled for the dog. It pattered toward him, tail wagging and headed into his laundry.   
He wasn’t on shift until the afternoon. He would take the dog to Cas then and find out who the pup belonged to. On the upside, he would get to see Cas. 

Dean woke in the morning, discovered he had a little companion. The dog was curled over his feet, nose to tail, snoring contentedly. He grinned. Whoever had lost the dog, must want her back. She was a cute little thing, blacks and browns with creamy white socks and a white tip to her tail. And those big brown soulful eyes that could convince a lesser man to commit acts like feeding her directly from the table.   
Dean tossed back his quilt, swinging his legs down. The dog woke up, flinched automatically. That made Dean frown. Did she think he was going to hit her?  
He chewed on his lower lip and reached out to pat her on the side. She stared at him warily, before seeming to realise he wouldn’t hurt her, and leaned into the touch.   
“Hrmm,” Dean grumbled. “Come on. Time for breakfast.”

Dean stared at his fridge and scowled. The hell could he feed the dog? Leftover chinese and chocolate coated coffee beans weren’t the best idea. Without anything jumping out and saying ‘eat me’, he was defeated and closed the door. He looked down at his feet, where the dog sat staring up at him.   
He opened the freezer.   
Steak. He had steak. It would have to do. He took out the frozen meal and tossed it into the microwave, punching numbers that would approximate defrost time. In the mean time, he switched on his coffee machine.   
He looked around for the dog. She had disappeared. He frowned and walked around the kitchen bench.   
Ah.   
She had found his laundry and had a pair of his bundled socks in her mouth, and was shaking her head, surprised when the socks exploded. She growled and pounced on the offending article and tugged on the end, one paw holding it still.   
Dean groaned.   
Well, one pair of socks wasn’t too bad.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the vet surgery. He grabbed up the dog under an arm and jerked back when a tongue licked his chin.   
“Dude!” he protested, locking the car.   
A bell sounded as he pushed open the front door.   
Jo Harvelle glanced up from behind the counter, one eyebrow cocked. “Hey, Sheriff.”   
“Hey, Jo,” Dean greeted her, smooshing the dog against his side when she started wriggling to be let down.   
“Whatchya got there?”   
“If you don’t know, I think I need to take it to another vet.”   
Jo snorted. “Smartass.” She stood up and leaned forward. “Didn’t know you had a dog.”   
“I don’t. She wandered into my yard last night. No collar. Thought maybe she might be chipped or someone here recognises her.”   
“Hmm.” Jo picked up a device from a cradle and came around the side to run the device over the back of the dog’s neck. It shivered when Jo touched her.   
Jo scowled and looked up at Dean. “You didn’t hit her did you?”   
Dean looked horrified. “Jo! Come on, you know me better than that.” He hugged the dog closer.   
Jo studied the screen. “Looks like someone did. You want the vet to check her over? She doesn’t have a chip.”   
“Uhh, sure. Yeah.”   
“Better take a seat. I will see if he can see her now.”

“Sheriff?” Castiel stood at the door to an exam room, wiping his hands on a paper towel. “Would you like to come on through?”   
“Sure.” Dean stood and the little dog just followed him in.   
Castiel studied him thoughtfully as approached, making Dean feel like he must have something on his face, it was so intense. Cas broke his gaze to glance down at the dog who sat, leaning against Dean’s leg.   
Castiel crouched down by Dean’s thigh and studied the dog. “Hey sweetheart,” he said in a low rumble of a voice that had Dean staring up at the ceiling, praying for some semblance of self control with Cas on his knees … right freaking there.   
Castiel held out his hand, and the little dog trembled, before taking an uncertain step forward, then another. Within only a few moments the dog was on her back, paws peddling the air while Castiel scratched her belly.   
Dean didn’t think he could be quite so jealous of a canine.   
“So yeah, she came around the back of my place. No collar or tags. Figured to bring her in, maybe you guys know her owner.”   
Castiel straightened suddenly, standing a little too close to Dean for a moment before backing off a step back to the exam table. “Let’s get her on the scales first, then put her up here. I will check her out.”   
Dean bent and hefted the pup. She gave him a joyful chin slobber and nudged him for pats, which he gave freely.   
“She seems to have adopted you,” Castiel drawled while he picked up an otoscope. “Hold her for a second.”   
Dean clutched the pup while Castiel checked her ears and listened to her heartbeat. Silently, he checked her teeth, then ran his hands over her skull, down her sides and, palpated each leg. The right back leg had the dog jerking around and snapping at Castiel, with a soft growl before cowering away from both men.   
“Oh sweetheart,” Castiel said softly. He turned and typed rapidly in his system. When he turned, his eyes were somber. “Okay, Sheriff…”   
“Call me Dean…”  
“Sorry?” Castiel blinked.   
“Dean. Call me Dean. I’m not the sheriff right now. I’m just Dean.”   
Castiel gave the smallest smile, and his eyes warmed. “Very well. Dean.” Then he sobered. “Your dog is less than a year old. Can’t really tell predominant breed, but definitely on the small side. Possibly some terrier looking at this coat. But she has been hurt several times. I can feel scarring on her side, on her scalp. Her back hip looks like it was damaged, but never set correctly.”  
Dean swallowed sharply, and studied the little dog who was staring between them both, ears pricked for their voices, seeming to know she was discussed. “I can’t… can’t send her back.”  
Castiel chewed on his lower lip. “I can’t recommend stealing someone else’s pet. We can put up fliers. See if anyone comes it.”   
Dean snorted. “Anyone who treats an animal like a punching bag deserves to be arrested and thrown in jail for a decade. See how they like it.” He paused. “But I guess the sheriff can’t steal her. Would look bad.”   
“It would,” Castiel agreed gravely.   
“Can you keep her meantime?”  
Castiel immediately shook his head. “My house is full. Sorry, Dean. If you don’t wish to keep her yourself, I can arrange for her to go into the pound. From there, perhaps she will be readopted if the owners don’t come for her?” His gaze remained steady and innocent.   
Dean knew he was being played. “I don’t have time for a dog,” he protested half heartedly.   
“I can arrange for her to be picked up today.” Cas was ruthless.   
Dean looked into the soulful brown eyes studying him. Damn it. He reached out and laying a broad palm over the side of her head he rubbed gently. He met Castiel’s amused gaze.   
“She needs a name,” Castiel said, pen poised over some paperwork already retrieved from a drawer. “For our records.”   
Dean pointed an accusing finger. “Damn you!”  
“Me?” Castiel rose a dark brow.   
“You knew I couldn’t leave her.”   
“I knew no such thing.” Castiel scribbled in other details, including ‘short wire hair mixed breed’ for type, ‘female’ and ‘desexed’ in other sections. “Name?”   
Dean sighed. “Max.”   
Castiel looked at him again. “Unusual for a female dog.”   
“Naming her after a cool character from a TV series called Dark Angel. She got beat up a lot, but just kept getting up and winning against the odds.”   
Castiel just nodded. “Max it is then.”   
Dean’s eyes widened a little. “Wait, what am I gonna need?”   
Castiel smiled again. “I will help you out, don’t worry.”   
A little part of Dean’s soul stood up and cheered. He didn’t even mind when Max jumped up and slobbered his chin again.   
  
Dean hefted the backs out of the backseat of the Impala, letting the dog who had laid primly on the battered leather, jump out and follow him to the front door. He looked down with amusement as she danced around him while he opened the door.   
He shook his head at himself. A dog? What was he going to do with a dog?   
He set the bags down, and pulled his wallet and the lengthy receipt out of his pocket, tossing it on the kitchen bench while the dog scrabbled to go out to the backyard. He opened the door to let her out, and stood on the deck while she ran around the backyard in obvious delight, the shot that Cas had given her not even slowing her down, despite the warnings that it might do so.   
Dean tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and his fingers curled around the rectangle of cardboard he knew was in there. He drew it out. Castiel Novak. Veterinarian. The number of the clinic. He turned it over and studied the numbers written on the back in a neat hand. He had Cas’ mobile number with instructions to call if he had questions.   
Asking the guy on a date was a question right?   
Dean shook his head. He had to get ready for work.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a date. 
> 
> It goes well.

Dean woke with a snort. What was that noise? He peered at his alarm clock. It was way WAY too early. He had an eight am shift, and it was five thirty?  
Fucking hell.   
He threw back the covers and headed downstairs. And stopped in horror. The contents of his rubbish bin were strewn across the kitchen floor. Max sat in the middle of the detritus happily chewing a kitchen roll into fluffy white pieces. He groaned.   
“Max! No! Stop!” He stared despairingly at the mess. “Come on! Outside!” He snapped gruffly, clapping his hands. Max cowered. Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He crouched down and held out his hands, palm down. She hesitated then scampered toward him, fawning at his touch.   
She then proceeded to stomp his heart to mush, his patience to the straining point and his kitchen to shreds.   
On the third morning, he woke to find she had found her bag of food in the pantry and devoured most of it. He panicked.   
“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was blurry and rasping.   
“Cas? Sorry! Shit. I know it’s early. Max has eaten nearly a whole bag of dog food. What do I do?”   
“Mrfff.” There was a grunt of annoyance. “Who is this?”   
“It’s Dean,” he snapped in frustration, his dog sprawled paws akimbo on his kitchen floor, her belly ballooning either side.   
“Where are you?” This was punctuated by a yawn.   
“Home!” Dean almost shouted. “Sorry, home.”   
“I don’t know where your home is, Dean. It’s not like I have your records in front of me.” The reply was equally peevish.  
“Damn. Sorry.” Dean gave him the address.   
Another yawn. “I will be right there.”   
Dial tone.   
Dean stared at the screen. Blinked. Then stared at the hurricane level destruction of his house. He whimpered and tried halfheartedly to clear some of the detritus while Max valiantly tried to play with the loose laces of his ancient sneakers.   
The doorbell sounded some ten minutes later, meaning that Castiel lived close. Dean headed for the door, wild haired, wild eyed, trailing a dog with more guts than sense.   
He stared at an equally wild haired Castiel, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. That wasn’t playing fair.   
“I’m sorry,” Dean tried. “I panicked.”   
“S’fine.” Castiel waved his hand. “Won’t protest a coffee though.” He had a bag in his other hand and studied the pup. “While I check the brat out.”   
Dean went gratefully to the kitchen, glad for something to do while Castiel wrought whatever magic he could.   
The coffee machine started up and like every morning, Max started barking. Dean leaned on his kitchen bench and closed his eyes. He wanted to whimper. What the hell was he thinking?  
Castiel sat down with Max in the middle of the maelstrom and checked her out, speaking low soft words that had the dog seeming to speak back in low huffs and snorts.   
“Is your belly sore? I bet it is?” Slow, stroking hands calmed the excited dog. “Ate too much huh? Was your daddy silly? Not putting your food somewhere you couldn’t get it huh?”   
“Hey!” Dean protested. “How is it my fault?”   
Castiel didn’t even look at him, just raised his voice a little and kept patting Max. “You need to keep her food in a container she can’t open. She doesn’t know any better. You are the one who has to be responsible.”   
“I’m responsible.” Dean scowled, slamming two mugs onto the kitchen bench. “I’m the damn sheriff.”   
“Well sure,” Castiel said agreeably. “But she doesn’t give a damn what you do when you leave her on her own. She gets bored and wants to play. She gets hungry and wants to eat.” He slowly stood and headed for the kitchen bench. “You need to lock up her food at all times, and lock her up at night.”   
Dean scowled. “She’s not a prisoner.”   
“No, Dean.” Castiel smiled kindly. “She’s not. But she needs boundaries. She needs to know you are pack leader and decide when she eats, and where she sleeps and poops. What about a crate?”   
“What? A cage?”   
“Not a cage,” Castiel gently corrected. “A kennel. A den. A safe place that’s hers. All this space is too open for her. She needs boundaries…what is hers and what is yours. She obviously didn’t get much training where she was, you are going to have to do it.”   
Dean slumped. “Can’t you do it?” And immediately knew he said the wrong thing.   
Castiel’s voice hardened. “You are the pack leader, not me. You need to learn to control her. If she really is too much hassle I can try to find a home for her.”   
Dean was horrified and stared over at Max, now sniffing with interest at the rug.   
“No! Of course not.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and switched out the coffee mugs under the percolator.   
Castiel paused a moment. “You might want to let her out. She’s about to pee on that rug.”   
“What?” Dean’s eyes widened and he skidded on socked feet toward the door. He whistled sharply. “Max! Hey! Come on! Outside!”   
Distracted, the dog scarpered for the door and and headed out to the deck. Dean leaned against the cold glass and groaned. He startled when a warm hand laid itself on his shoulder.   
“It will be alright.”   
Dean met those amused blue eyes so near his own and found he couldn’t make sentences.   
“How do you take your coffee?” Castiel asked kindly.   
“White. No sugar.”

They stood on the deck, sun barely up over the horizon, sipping coffee.   
“I’m sorry for calling so early, Cas.”   
“It’s quite alright, Dean. Just this once I will forgive you.” Those wicked blue eyes glinted at him over the rim of the cup.   
Dean melted, and it might be the early hour. The sexy bedhead. The blue eyes… or all of it. But his mouth engaged before his brain. “Would you like to go out with me this weekend?”   
Castiel lowered his cup. “I’m sorry?”   
Dean’s words stumbled over themselves. “I mean, it’s alright if you don’t want to. I just think you are awesome. And I like you. And…”   
“But you’re not gay?”   
“Well no.” Dean chewed on his lower lip. “I’m bi. And I really hope you are interested, and if not, it’s okay, I won’t make a big deal out of it, I just thought…”   
“Dean. Stop.” Castiel set down his cup and faced Dean. He studied him seriously. “You are asking me out on a date, yes?”   
“Uhh. Yes?”   
“Alright.”   
Dean blinked. “Alright?”   
“Yes. Alright.”   
A smile like sunshine spread across Dean’s face. “Really?”   
“Yes. You seem to have matured somewhat in the intervening years since high school. In all the correct ways.”   
“Cas?”   
“Yes?”   
“Is that you flirting with me?”   
“Did I do it wrong?” A dark eyebrow winged up.   
“No. No, I think you got it right.” Dean nodded. “Yeah. Just right.”   
  
Date night.   
Dean nibbled on his lower lip and stared at himself in the mirror. He tried smiling.   
“Hey Cas.”   
He grimaced. Smoothed his expression. Went for a charming smirk. “Hey. What’s up, Cas.”   
He hung his head in shame.   
The patter of little paws on the stairs had him looking up. Max nudged open the door and hopped up onto the bed. She plonked her butt on the quilt and tilted her head.   
“What do you think?” Dean held out his arms.   
Max barked, a little yap of a sound.   
“Good?”   
She barked again.   
He made fingerguns. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

Dean shut the door of the Impala and headed for Cas’ front door. He knocked once, nervously swiping his hands down the front of his trousers.   
The door opened and all thoughts of a smooth-as-fuck ‘Hey Cas’ went out the window at the sight of his date dressed in a royal blue button down, charcoal trousers and dark rimmed glasses.   
“Dean, hello. Come on in, I’m not quite ready, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find my contact lenses.”   
“You…” Dean cleared his throat. “You wear glasses?”   
“Only for reading.”   
Oh god. Glasses. The guy wore glasses. He thudded his head against the doorframe.   
“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, concern etched on his face.   
“Yeah. Yeah fine. You look… good.”   
The briefest flash of a smile curved Castiel’s amazing mouth. “Thank you. You look good also.”   
Dean swiped his sweaty hand down the front of his charcoal shirt. The one he had gone through six outfits to find.  
Thor nosed around the corner and sat, a doggie smile on his face, waiting for a pat. Dean scratched his silky head to canine delight.   
“Where are we going?” Castiel’s voice rose up as he headed down a hallway.   
“Uhh, I thought we might get dinner at The Grove.”   
“Oh I haven’t tried there. Is it good?”   
“Anna said it was great.”   
There was quiet for a time, then Castiel returned, blinking a little but without his glasses. Dean was still standing in the entryway, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets.   
“I’m ready.” Castiel approached then, picking his keys and wallet up from a side table. “Shall we go?”   
He passed close to Dean, gripping the front door. Dean turned and closed his eyes briefly. Whatever cologne Cas was using was heavenly. It wrapped its way around his senses and punched him in the gut.   
It was gonna be a long night.

The dinner was tasty but unmemorable. Dean spent most of the time with his eyes fixed on Castiel’s face as the other man spoke animatedly of his work and some of his more recalcitrant clients.   
Never was there more regret when Castiel called for the check and they stacked bills inside the leather folder and stood up.   
He walked Cas to his front door and hovered, hands in his pockets. Cas fidgeted with his keys, a faint smile curving his lips.   
“I think that went well?” Dean ventured.   
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Castiel nodded.  
“Would you like to do it again?” Dean tried to keep his voice casual, ignoring the whiteknuckled clench of his hands in his pockets.   
Castiel turned, took a step in close and met his gaze steadily before those blue eyes dropped to his mouth. Dean involuntarily licked his lips and Castiel’s pupils blew wide.   
“Yes. But would you mind terribly if I kissed you?” Castiel asked in a voice that was suddenly husky.   
“No.” Dean swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”   
Cas reached out, wrapped his hands around the edges of Dean’s coat and tugged him forward a little as he met Dean’s mouth halfway.   
Dean’s brain short circuited. It was awkward at first as Dean held himself a little stiffly, a bit surprised at his reaction. Just as Castiel pulled back a little, as though he would step away, Dean muttered, “More.” And determined to give it the real Winchester try, Dean locked lips with Cas again, this time remembering he had hands and splayed them over his solid back.   
It was some ephemeral time later that they drew breath and stared at each other with a slightly manic look in their eyes.   
Dean was certain he was blushing right from his toes. Certainly Cas had a brilliant colour over his cheeks.  
“So. Wow,” Dean managed.   
“Yeah.” Castiel blinked. “Huh.”   
“So…again sometime?”   
“Definitely.”   
Dean smiled brightly. “Great.”   
He sauntered back to the Impala and glancing up at the house, saw that Castiel was still standing, watching him. Dean opened the door, and lifted a hand in farewell.   
Castiel returned the gesture, smiled.  
Dean was a goner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner time at the Winchesters.

     Life was good. Dean could barely comprehend it and his sudden stroke of luck. Cas was incredible. Three months in and it was good. Yeah. He had the feeling solid in his gut that Cas was it for him.   
     Max was hard work, but he was totally in love with the cutie. She pounced him when he let her out of the run he had built her down the side of the house and greeted him like a long lost love. She was putting on necessary weight, though he now kept her food in a secure metal tub. And Cas was helping him train her.   
     It was dinner with his parents in a few minutes and he was nervous. Mom was likely to be okay, but Dad might be another matter. He could hear Cas on the phone in the lounge-room, talking to his brother, setting up training times with the dogs in the morning.  
     Mom knew he had dated guys in the past. He had asked her not to tell Dad, but… marriage rules. He just wasn’t sure. And Mom had insisted on this dinner. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. It would be fine. It had to be fine.

     Mary met them at the door, pulled Dean in for a hug and kissed him on the temple. “Hey, sweetie.” She let Dean back off far enough to hold out her hand toward Castiel. “Hello, Castiel. I’m glad you could make it.”   
     “Thank you, Mrs Winchester,” Castiel replied formally and closed the door behind him. He held out the bunch of wildflowers with a hand that trembled only a little.   
     Now Mary did let go of Dean. “Oh! Thank you! These are beautiful. How did you know?”   
     Castiel gave a crooked smile. “I love them. I’m afraid your son is hopeless at knowing his mother’s favorite flowers.”  
     Mary clutched the flowers in one hand, and reached out for Castiel’s shoulder and drew him in for a kiss to the temple, then turned to look at Dean. “Dad’s in the kitchen,” she said softly.   
     Dean took a deep breath, and reached out for Castiel’s hand. Cas took it and he nodded.   
     “Dean and Castiel are here.” Mary lifted her voice.   
     “Then get them in to the kitchen,” came the gruff response.   
     John Winchester stood at the stove, a huge black apron swathing his solid body as he stirred a pot of sauce. As Dean hovered in the doorway flanked by Castiel, John glanced aside.   
     “Hand me that?” John pointed at the pot of pasta steaming on the sink. Dean glanced at Cas and headed into his father’s domain.   
     Mary held onto Castiel’s arm and said softly, “Let them work, help me set the table?”   
     Castiel nodded, sharing another glance with Dean.

     “So how many canine search and rescue handlers are with the team now?” John asked, elbows propped on the table, tone enigmatic.   
     “We have six at present, with another group of three in final stages of training.” Castiel took a sip of his wine.  
     “And everyone does this voluntarily?”   
     “Yes, sir.”   
     John was silent for a while, until finally he nodded. “Admirable. I heard that you and Dean found Lisa Braeden’s boy. That was good work.”   
     “It was a team effort, sir. But thank you.”   
     Dean wanted to grin. That was like highest praise from his father. He reached out with his foot and nudged it beside Castiel’s. Cas’ bright blues met his and the edges crinkled in a faint smile.  
     “How’s work at the garage going, Dad?” Dean ventured when the conversation lapsed.   
     “Good.” John nodded. “Things have picked up pretty well. Bringing on Christian was a good move. He’s got a good eye and a good brain.”   
     “Yeah? That’s good.”  
     “Would have been better if you’d decided to come work with me…”   
     “Dad…”  
     “John-”  
     Castiel glanced between them, his brows drawing together.   
     “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” John flapped his hand. “You got a fancy degree, and got yourself a badge now.”  
     Mary eased back in her chair.   
     “I like the job, Dad. It suits me.”   
     “Yeah, and you do it good. Gossip says it’s good.”   
     “Oh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhh, that’s good.”   
     “Further gossip says you two are a thing. Is that right?”   
     Dean shifted uncomfortably and Mary tensed. “Yeah, Dad. Cas and I have been seeing each other for a couple months now.”   
     “Huh.” John took another mouthful of pasta, glancing between the two men. “Could be worse, I guess.”   
     Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What?”   
     “Dean…” Mary said softly.   
     “You could be over the other side of the country doing all this.” John cleared his throat, his fork clattering down, refusing to look up. “Glad you decided to come home.”   
     Dean blinked. It was the first time his father had ever admitted that. He felt a touch against his foot again, and met Castiel’s concerned gaze. He gave a faint, watery smile. Mary stood up and started collecting their empty plates. Beside Dean, she put a gentle hand on the back of his neck. He touched her fingers. Mary carried the plates into the kitchen, and Dean only vaguely listened as John asked Cas a question about his vet practice.   
     “Oh, Dean. I meant to tell you! A friend of yours from college is in town. Michael Milligan. He came in to the store today.”   
     A shard of ice went through Dean’s chest. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen him in… in…” His voice trailed off, his hands twisting the napkin Mary had set out.   
     He felt Castiel’s curious gaze on his but couldn’t acknowledge it. Michael. What the hell was that asshole doing here?

     “Who is Michael?” Castiel asked quietly when they were on their own while John and Mary dealt with dessert.   
     “Later.”   
     “Dean.”   
     “I said later.”  
  
  
     They were back in the Impala when Castiel asked again. “Alright, we are on our own. Who is Michael?”   
     “He’s someone I knew in college.” Dean’s hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “An old friend like Mom said.”  
     “Okay.”   
     The rest of the short journey was in silence, and when they pulled out outside Castiel’s house, Dean stared ahead at the road.  
     Castiel’s hand was on the door. “Goodnight, Dean.”   
     Dean closed his eyes briefly. “Cas, wait.” He turned off the engine, turned in his seat to face his boyfriend. “Look. Mike was just a bad decision I made in college, okay? That he’s in town threw me some.”   
     “Are you certain you are okay?” Castiel reached out and gripped Dean’s hand.   
     “Yeah.” Dean reached out for Castiel, curving his palm over the back of Cas’ neck.   
     Castiel scooted over the benchseat, and brought his lips to Dean’s. Dean fell into the pure sensation that was the kiss, only vaguely aware of the clutch of Castiel’s hands on his chest.  
He slanted his head, and nipped at Castiel’s lower lip. The sound Cas made was unearthly and it had Dean shifting to ease the ache in his groin. He broke the kiss.   
     “Can I come in?”   
     Castiel studied his face with serious intent. His fingertips trailed over Dean’s jaw.   
     “Not tonight,” he said softly, his thumb skimming over Dean’s lower lip to stay his protest. “I can’t put my finger on it, but you are angry or upset about something.”   
     Dean scowled. “What are you talking about?” He dropped his hands from Castiel to his lap. “I just want to be with you.”   
     “You are with me. But not tonight.”  
     Dean swallowed hard against the rejection, frustration snarling his soul. “Fine. Got an early shift anyway.”   
     Castiel backed away, and opened the Impala door. He stood on the sidewalk, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans while he pursed his lips thoughtfully and Dean peeled away.   
     “Michael, huh?” he murmured to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes his presence felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: Creepy stalkerish vibes.

    Castiel opened the door to his surgery and covered a yawn with the back of his hand. Jo hopped down out of her ancient truck and held out a cup of takeaway coffee. Neither spoke out of a long tradition of a dislike of making conversation before the first cup of coffee. He checked his phone again when he dumped his bag on his desk. Nothing from Dean. His thumb hovered over Dean’s contact. Would he welcome contact so soon after last night? Castiel locked the screen and tucked it in his pocket.   
    It was going to be a long day. He heard the distant sound of the front door bell and knew he had to get it together and think about what was going through his boyfriend’s head much…much later.

    They broke briefly for lunch, and as was their tradition headed for the cafe on the corner. Dean ordered his customary soup and toasted ham on rye, while Jo went for the burger. They pulled up at a table, taking their soda with them.  
    “What’s on the books for the afternoon?” Castiel asked Jo.   
    “Just two check ups. Then you’re in the clear.”   
    “Alright. We can start with stocktake after that.”   
    Jo groaned.   
    “You know it has to be done.”   
    “I know…I know…” Jo flapped her hand at him as their lunches arrived.   
    “There y’are Doc, and Miss Jo.” The waitress set down the plates and grinned.   
    “Thanks Millie.” Jo beamed at her.   
    “How’s the Sheriff doing, Doc?” Millie asked, tucking her pen into the tight knot of her bun at the back of her head. “Haven’t seen him around much.”   
    “He’s doing well, Millie.” Castiel picked up his spoon. “Just busy.”   
    “Aww, that’s good. Tell him that I got a new sauce for my hot wings that I want him to try.”   
    Castiel chuckled at that. “He wouldn’t miss it for sure.”   
    Millie patted Castiel on the shoulder before heading to get the next order. Castiel’s smile fell.   
    “Spill,” Jo demanded, picking up a fry and popping it into her mouth.   
    “Spill what?” Castiel muttered defensively.   
    “Did you and Sheriff Winchester argue?”   
    “Yes.” Castiel hesitated. “No. I’m not sure.”   
    Jo rose a perfectly arched brow and pursed her lips. “Not sure… Wouldn’t you know?”   
    “It wasn’t really an argument…as such.” Castiel scowled at ate his soup. “Stop prying.”   
    “Pff, as if that would stop me.” She picked up her burger in both hands and bit down hard. With a full mouth, she gestured at him. “Was it something you did?”   
    “No. And yes.”   
    “It’s like trying to pull teeth here, Cas.”   
    “Dean didn’t want to talk to me about something. I suppose he wanted to distract himself with sex. I said no.”   
    Jo nodded slowly. “Harsh but fair.”   
    “You think?” Castiel looked up hopefully.   
    “Sure.” Jo chewed. “But you gotta get out of him what’s pissing him off.”   
    “If he wants to talk to me.”   
    “You might have to make him.”  
    “Hi! Excuse me.” A voice interrupted their conversation from somewhere behind Castiel.   
    Jo glanced up and her eyes widened. She smiled at the newcomer. “Hi there.”   
    Castiel twisted in his seat and took in a guy somewhere in his thirties, dark blonde scruff of a beard and carefully producted and spiked blonde hair. His brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled.   
    “I couldn’t help but overhear.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m real sorry about that. I don’t want to interrupt.”   
    Jo leaned back in her chair, one elbow propped on the arm. “Then inquiring minds wanna know why you are.”   
    The smile slipped. “Yeah, sorry. Look I’m just in town for a couple days on business. Heard an old friend was hereabouts, and thought to look him up for old time’s sake. And then here you are talking about him. Dean Winchester?”   
    Castiel toyed with his spoon and studied the guy. “And you are?”   
    “The name is Michael. Michael Milligan. Deano and I went to college.”   
    Jo shot Castiel a curious glance. “Well, the Doc here is his boyfriend.”   
    “Oh yeah?” Michael asked brightly, and held out his hand. “Nice to meet the guy that finally reeled in Winchester.”   
    “I didn’t ‘reel him in’.” Castiel stood and shook Michael’s hand for a brief second. “Well I hope you get to catch up with him before you leave town.”  
    “I don’t suppose you could like…shoot me his number?” Michael pressed.  
    “No offense, dude.” Jo dusted off her hands. “But two things - one, we don’t know you. And handing the private phone number of the town sheriff out to strangers ain’t nothing that makes sense. And two, you know he’s town sheriff. Figure he’s pretty easy to find. Just wander on down and see if he’s in his office.”   
    Michael’s smile remained hard and fixed. “You’re right. Sure. Of course.” He backed off. “Y’all have a good day.”   
    Castiel returned to his seat and glanced over his shoulder as Michael retreated.   
    “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I don’t like him.” Jo pointed with a fry.   
    “No.” Castiel pulled out his phone. “Neither do I.”

    Dean stared at the message that came through.   
    _Just met Michael. We need to talk._  
    Dean pressed the edge of the phone against his brow and his shoulder ached, a phantom pain that had him clenching his hand.   
    “Sheriff?”   
    Dean glanced up at Garth. “Yes, Deputy Fitzgerald?”   
    “Traffic bingle up on Eighth. Apparently Mister Biederman took his car out again.”   
    “Damn.” Dean stood up and and grabbed his cap. “Come on. With me.”

    Clearing the traffic incident up took a few hours, including Dean sitting down with Maurice Biederman and explaining to the Army vet why he couldn’t have his driver’s license anymore.  
Maurice had dementia and he was increasingly unable to live on his own. Dean really needed to have a word with his son.   
    Tossing his ballcap on the desk, he sat to do the paperwork, and said his farewells to Garth and Charlie. He looked at his phone and the message to which he hadn’t replied. The front door jangled, and Dean ignored it. Kevin was probably on his way in. He was on night shift with Anna.   
    “Hey Kevin.” He stood up, file in hand, and headed for the front. “It should be-”  
    Dean stopped and his mouth dropped open.   
    “Hey, Deano.” Michael Milligan stood in the reception area. “Long time no see.”   
    Dean’s voice was a rasp. “What are you doing here?”   
    “Just checking in on an old friend. How’ve you been?”   
    “Fine. Get out of here.”   
    “Now is that any way to greet me?” Michael strolled forward, his eyes bright, smile fixed.  
    “I don’t want anything to do with you.” Dean gripped the edge of the counter. “Leave. Leave me alone. Leave my family alone.”   
    “I met your boyfriend today. Castiel is it?” The sharklike eyes narrowed. “He was very pretty. But you always like us pretty, didn’t you?”  
    “What do you want?” Dean rasped. “What the hell do you want?”   
    “Just to catch up.” Michael shrugged easily.   
    The front doors opened, and Kevin headed in, trailing Anna. They were arguing fiercely over some sports minutiae. Dean couldn’t have been more glad to see anyone in his life.   
    “Hey, Sheriff.” Anna greeted him, heading behind the counter, giving a curious glance toward Michael. “Busy day?”   
    “You bet.” Dean stared at Michael, meeting his gaze steadily. “Sorry to cut this short, sir, but I have to get on with my paperwork. Y’know how it is.”   
    “Sure, sure.” Michael beamed. “You have done well for yourself, Dean. Real well. You have a good evening now.”   
    Dean watched Michael leave, and only a small fraction of the tension went out of his shoulders. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.   
    “Ready for the briefing, chief.” Kevin pulled his service weapon from the locker and hitched it on his belt.   
    “Yeah. Just a moment.”   
    Dean punched out a quick text to Cas.   
    _Sorry. Been caught up here. Won’t be home until late. Talk tomorrow?_  
    Dean clutched the phone.   
    “Sheriff?” Anna asked, concern in her voice. “Everything okay?”   
    “Sure. Definitely.” Dean tucked the phone in his pocket.

    Michael Milligan sat in his car, and watched as the ridiculous muscle car that Dean had driven since he had known him, pull away from the station.   
    He smiled.   
    Dean was looking good. Very good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind games begin.

     Dean saw his phone vibrating on the coffee table and leaned forward to see the screen. When he saw Castiel’s number his hand hovered over the device to pick it up. The ringtone played out and message bank started. Dean waited, and then picked up his phone. He listened to the message with his eyes shut, head tilted against the couch.   
      _“I haven’t heard from you and I’m concerned. I realise we are still relatively new to this, but I care about you enough to know you are hurting somehow. Please talk to me? Please call me?”_  
     Dean cleared his throat and pondered what to do. He had to keep Castiel as far away from Michael as possible. It had been years, but he believed Michael to be just as unpredictable and dangerous as ever. He had to keep Cas safe. He hit the number to call Cas and schooled his voice to cheer and good-will-to-all-men.  
      _“Hello? Dean?”_   
     “Heya Cas. I’m so sorry I missed your call, was just in the kitchen.”  
    _“Are you alright?”_   
     “Yeah! Just fine.” Dean even smiled so hard it hurt, even though no one could see it.   
      _“Did you get my message about Michael?”_  
     “Sure did. Saw him today, actually. He came by the station.”   
     There was silence, then a wary: _“Okay.”_   
     “Stop worrying. Hey, look, I’m sorry I have to be that guy, but I have to cancel our date tomorrow night. I have to switch to a night shift because we are short handed.”  
    _“It’s quite alright, Dean. I understand.”_   
     “I will call, okay?”   
      _“That will be nice, thank you.”_   
     “Look, I’m beat. Been a hell of a day. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”   
      _“Of course, Dean. Have a good sleep.”_   
     “Night.”   
     Dean thumbed the hang up button. He pressed the edge of the phone into his forehead again and bit down hard on his lower lip, tears edging his eyes. He could deal with Michael, then his life will be back to normal. It had to.

     Castiel narrowed his eyes as he stared at the blank screen of his phone. Oh, something was wrong, alright. He considered his options and checked the time. Too late for phone calls now.   
     In the morning. He would deal with this in the morning.

     Castiel headed into Mary Winchester’s antique store just after opening, his leather satchel clutched tightly across his shoulder. Mary was humming softly to herself, arranging a small bouquet of flowers in a vase and setting them on a restored table that was all rich burgundy and softly gleaming bronze.   
     “Hello, Mrs Winchester,” he interrupted her as she picked up a soft cloth.  
     Mary glanced up, startled and a bright smile crossed her lips. “Oh! Castiel. Hello. Do call me Mary.” She moved around furniture, lamps and little statues to get to him. “How are you, dear?”   
     “I’m fine. Good.” Castiel nodded. “It’s about Dean.”   
     “Oh?” Mary blinked. “Is he alright?” She clutched the cloth. “He’s not hurt is he?”   
     “No no!” Castiel held out his hand, feeling terrible he was handling this so poorly. “Physically, he’s fine. But I’m worried. Can we … sit?”   
     “Of course. Yes.” Mary lead him to the back room. She gestured for him to sit opposite her at a table. “What’s going on, Castiel?”   
     “I don’t know. Dean isn’t talking to me. Well…” He rammed his fingers into his hair in frustration. “He is…but not about whatever is bothering him. Since our dinner, he has been off.     Since you mentioned Michael Milligan.”   
     “Oh. Oh dear.” Mary chewed on her lower lip. “Yes.”  
     “Did you know Michael before he came to town?”   
     “Only a little. I went up to visit Dean while he was in college and there was a young man there, maybe a little older than he was. Dean introduced us, and it seemed they were close.”   
     “You knew Dean liked men as well as women?”   
     “Well, suspected more than knew. He didn’t tell me until a few years later.”  
     “I see. And Mr Winchester, uhh, John? He knows?”   
     “Oh yes.” Mary sighed. “Yes. I know Dean was nervous about introducing you. But John was well aware of your relationship a few weeks ago, was just waiting on Dean to tell him. I think he was quite relieved. He’s a good man, John, but he plays things close to the chest at times.”   
     “But he didn’t know about Michael? I suspect Michael was one of Dean’s … first?”   
     “No, he didn’t know about Michael. Then the next time I saw Dean, he was single.” Mary shrugged. “He dated Lisa Braeden only briefly, then there was you. Playing the field doesn’t seem to be his style. At least, not since college.”  
     “What do you know about Michael?”   
     “Oh.” Mary frowned. “Nothing. Not really. He was a TA in one of Dean’s classes I think. Economics. His family are from back east. He was in here the other day. I think I told you that. He seemed very sweet and charming.”   
     Castiel nodded slowly. “And Dean didn’t tell you much about why the relationship ended?”   
     “No. Well, you see, he didn’t know that I suspected there was even a relationship. It was just the hint of intimacy that isn’t there in a normal friendship. He hasn’t really even confirmed it was more than friendship. Did he tell you?”   
     “No.” Castiel thumbed his lower lip in thought. “Like you, I’m reading between the lines. According to Dean he was ‘an old friend’.” He used the finger quotes.   
     Mary smiled and reached over to pat Castiel’s hand. “Maybe he really is just distracted by work, dear. And I’m sure that by Michael showing up, if he is an ex, while things are so new with you, he’s just trying to handle it the best way he knows how.” Mary gives a champion eye roll. “And if he is anything like his father, it is of course going to be the wrong way.”   
     Castiel laughed. “Probably. Thank you, Mary. I appreciate your time.”   
     “Have patience with him. He needs it at times.”

     Castiel was locking up the clinic after a late evening with emergency surgery on a dog that had needed stitches after a fight with another dog. He was tired, and waved a weary hand at Jo as she honked her horn. She had insisted on staying well past her shift, and helped him clean everything up. She was a good kid, and would make a brilliant vet surgeon herself when she got the money together to go to college.   
     He headed for his car and was distracted by the sound of laughter from the bar across the street as the door was opened and closed by an entering patron. His attention was caught by a couple in the window.   
     Anna Milton, sheriff’s deputy, in tight jeans and a low slung top, was having a drink with a very dapper Michael Milton. Castiel’s chin jerked up as a sick feeling settled in his gut.   
Suddenly, he was caught staring by Michael. That flat gaze bored into his, the charming smile slipped a little, before it was plastered back into place, and the asshole rose a hand in a little mocking wave.   
     Castiel tossed his bag into the seat beside him and got in his car. Maybe he was jealous? He had to admit that knowing that Michael probably was one of Dean’s first boyfriends, if not the first, made him a little wary of the guy. But why wasn’t Dean upfront. It’s not like Castiel would judge him?   
     It’s not like Dean was Castiel’s first?   
     He started the car and risked another glance at the window. Michael was leaning over, brushing a strand of hair out of Anna’s face. Castiel might have squealed the tyres a little heading out of the parking lot.

  
      _Hello Dean._  
     The text coiled like a snake on his phone, sent from an anonymous number. He couldn’t reply. He shouldn’t reply.   
     The stationhouse was quiet. Charlie and Kevin were out on a call, and he was holding down the fort until they got back.   
     He stared at the message again. And his thumbs were moving before his brain could do the thinking.   
      ** _How did you get this number?_**  
     A few seconds.   
      _Your beautiful deputy sheriff doesn’t have a lock on her phone._   
     Dean’s mind froze. Anna? Anna had mentioned she had a date, but… no. Michael wouldn’t pull that would he?  
      ** _Where is Anna?_**  
      _We had a perfectly charming evening. My compliments, Dean. You have good taste in work colleagues. Terrible taste in boyfriends though._  
      ** _Yeah well. You should know._ ** Dean snarked back and regretted sending it immediately. He didn’t need to antagonize Michael.   
      _Tsk tsk, Dean. So how about it? For old time’s sake?_  
      ** _How about what?_**  
      _I know! Let’s play a guessing game._   
      ** _I’m not playing any kind of game with you._**  
    _You already are. Come on, Dean. This will be fun._   
      _ **Fuck you. Leave town before I have you arrested.**_  
_Tsk tsk. For what? I haven’t done anything, Sheriff. Come on. Just a quick game. I’m sitting outside a house that you know very well. Guess which one._   
     Dean stood up, fear clutching his throat. He paced the length of his office. He stared back down at the phone.   
      _The garden looks lovely._   
     Then.  
    _Someone must be still awake. The lights are on. Should I go knock?_   
     Cas? Mom and Dad? Who? Dean clenched the phone, unwilling to reply.  
    _It’s painted a pretty yellow. Call me, Dean, or I will go knock on the door._   
     He knew where Michael was.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW in this chapter.

     Dean snarled and called the number. It answered to silence. “Stay away from my parents, you asshole. Stay the fuck away.”   
     There was only the sound of slow breathing. Then a low chuckle echoed out of the phone. Dean hung up and threw the device. It bounced on the desk, then hit the floor. Almost immediately it buzzed and the screen glowed bright. Dean jammed both hands into his hair, sending it into errant spikes and tears of frustration gleamed in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He was the sheriff, and he was helpless. 

     Dean's shift ended at four. He then spent a quiet hour searching Michael Milligan’s record. A few pops for speeding. One for DUI. He lived in upstate New York. Last known occupation - Investor for Adler Corporate. Whatever the hell that meant. In town for business? Hardly. He knuckled his eyes and wearily shut down the computer. It was five-thirty am and he had to get home. Farewelling Charlie and Kevin he signed off and headed out.  
     The Impala started with a roar, igniting his sluggish brain and he put her into drive. Without thinking about it, he took the streets toward Castiel’s.   
     His feet were in slow, plodding, brainless motion up the front walk before he knocked on the front door. What was he thinking? He shouldn’t be here? What if Michael was watching? His brain catching up, he stared wildly around him. No cars. No one walking. No one moving. It was a slow, grey, pre-dawn light that made the world insipid.  
     He wouldn’t knock again. It was stupid. Of course Cas was asleep. He woulnd’t answer the door to his punchdrunk boyfriend. Was he still Cas’ boyfriend? After the past couple of days, Cas probably thought he was a total dick.   
     Dean turned to head back down the path, before the sound of the front door opening and Cas’ sleep ruffled head and pillow crushed face peered out. “Dean?”   
     “Hey, Cas.” Dean tucked his hands in his pockets and stared down at the floorboards of the front porch. “M’sorry it’s so early. Just had to see you.”   
     Silently Cas approached on bare feet, toes curling a little in the cold. He curved warm palms over Dean’s jaw and studied him closely. Then silently wrapped him into a hug, pulling him in and tucking his face into the curve of Dean’s neck. Dean wearily closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Castiel’s broad shoulder. He wanted to cry. He couldn’t. But the tears stung his eyes anyway.   
     When Castiel released him just enough to look at him again, he pressed thumb and forefinger into his eyes until lights danced behind them. He couldn’t fucking cry.   
     “Come inside.” Castiel said softly, and closing his hand around Dean’s unresisting paw, he drew him into the warmth of his home.   
Cas’ bedroom was toward the back of the house, and with gentle, insistent prodding, Cas divested him of his jacket, his shoes, socks, jeans and uniform shirt. Pulling a pair of soft sleep pants from his draw, he put them in Dean’s hands before dropping a kiss on his temple.   
     Dean slid into the cool, soft sheets and closed his eyes. Shortly after, he felt a long, warm body tuck up behind his, a kiss dropped on the back of his neck and strong arms fold him close.   
     “Sleep. I’m here.”   
     Dean murmured something unintelligible, and without resistance, slept.

  
     He had no idea what the time was when he awoke again, but he was definitely aware of the other person in the bed. They had reversed positions at some point. Cas was sprawled on his front, messy bed hair tickling Dean’s nose as he curved protectively over him, left leg bent and tangled with Cas’, left arm over his back, their hands curled over each other as if unwilling to let go, even in sleep.   
     Castiel’s broad back was right under his mouth, and he kissed it. He felt Cas shift and he lightly ran his chin, no doubt spiked with scruff, over the soft skin. Cas wriggled and murmured a protest.   
     He turned his head, and blinked sleepily at Dean, like an irritated owl woken from hard earned rest.   
     “Hi,” Dean said softly, before leaning in and kissing the corner of Cas’ mouth, which curved slightly under his lips in a smile.   
     “Hello, Dean.” Castiel wriggled around again, until he was facing Dean, secure in the bracket of Dean’s thighs, heavy arm still curving over his waist.   
     Sleepy kisses turned hotter and deeper. Dean’s fingers skimmed down under Cas’ sleep pants, tracing the curve of his ass and fitting him closer against the hard arch of his cock. He could feel the heavy ridge of Castiel’s length through his pants.   
     Dean dragged his tongue and scraped his chin up the tender arch of Castiel’s neck, nipping his ear and murmuring something that had Castiel grinding hard against him. He had Cas wriggle out of his pants, and tossed them to the floor.   
     Dean pressed Castiel back on the bed, and trailed his way down the tense solidity of his body. He laved Castiel’s nipple with his tongue and dragged his teeth over the sensitive bud. He was rewarded by the insistent grind of Castiel’s cock against his belly. He scritched rough fingertips and short nails down Castiel’s sides, down his thighs and settled himself between his strong legs to study the pulsing cock that curved against his stomach. Dean looked up at his boyfriend and grinned at the stunned desire writ on his face.   
     He traced every ridge and coiling vein with his tongue, all the way to the tip where he paused for a heart stopping moment to tease the ridge of skin that had Castiel arching off the bed. Castiel clutched the bedsheets and whimpered.   
In one smooth, careful move, Dean took Cas’ cock slowly into his mouth, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre-cum slicking his tongue, before taking a few relaxing breaths and sliding him in. The sounds Castiel made were unearthly and Dean hummed his agreement.   
     “Dean, stop. I’m going to… going to…”   
     Dean didn’t stop. He teased and skimmed his fingers over the tender skin of Castiel’s thighs, he learned the particular texture of his balls, and with mouth and hands, he tore every dirty sound out of Cas, until he jerked and tensed and cum flooded Dean’s mouth.   
     Carefully, he pulled off, wiping his mouth and chin with his hand and crept back up the bed, cock heavy and hard against his belly. But looking at Castiel’s face, he didn’t care he hadn’t finished. That look alone was worth everything.   
     Castiel was boneless, but had the presence of mind to cuddle in close to Dean and bring his lips up.   
     “Cas, you came in my mouth…” Dean warned him.   
     “I don’t care,” Cas murmured and tasted of himself on Dean’s tongue. He really didn’t seem to care. After several long moments of tongues and lips devouring, Castiel seemed to become aware that Dean was slowly grinding against his hip. He reached down and cupped Dean’s cock. “You didn’t?”   
     “Doesn’t matter,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s mouth.   
     In a move that surprised Dean, Castiel maneuvered him onto his back and straddling his hips reached over to the bedside table. Castiel’s cock was limp, though beginning to show signs of interest again as Dean slowly ground up against him, mindlessly seeking friction.   
     He tossed a wrapped condom on Dean’s chest and cracked the top of a bottle of lube. Coating his fingers he reached back and did something out of sight that had his head falling back and his eyes closing.   
     Dean hadn’t seen anything hotter in his life as that sight, and reached up to run his hands over Cas’ leanly muscled torso. Castiel was slowly grinding back on him. Dean grabbed the lube and dribbled some to help things along a little.   
     Cas did something else that had his mouth falling open and a low groan sighing out.   
     “You know I would have done that for you…” Dean drawled, a little breathless.   
     “Next time.” Castiel picked up the condom, tore open the pack and wriggling backwards, he dribbled some of the lube into the condom before rolling it down on Dean’s cock. Then he leaned forward, one arm propped beside Dean’s head, staring down intently as he slid up until Dean’s cock sprang up and bounced back on Cas’ arse.   
     Dean watched Cas reach back, and all the breath left his lungs as he felt Cas grip his length and ease him slowly into his body. He watched Castiel wince a little, and tightened his grip on Cas’ hips to pull him back off, when Cas wriggled a little, clenched and released and he slid home another couple of inches. After a repeat of his mind-breaking action, Cas was fully seated, his eyes drifting half closed while he rocked slowly on Dean’s groin.   
     “God, Cas.” Dean rasped.  
     Cas started to move then, back and forth, in a slow arch that had Dean struggling to catch his breath.   
     “Cas… yes.”   
     Castiel’s blue eyes were slumberous as they met and held his, hips moving faster, deeper, harder. Dean couldn’t keep up, resorting to half hearted thrusts that made his thighs burn.   
     “You’re gorgeous…” Dean murmured.   
     Castiel leaned down again and clumsily kissed him, all the while trying to keep moving. A sharp spike of pain went to Dean’s groin, making him jerk and he realized Cas had pinched his nipple.   
     “Do…that again…” Dean choked.   
     A second one. More intense. And Dean closed his eyes, shouted out something profoundly intelligent like: ‘Fuck yes! Cas! Fuck!’   
His brain short-circuited. He felt Cas clamber off him and was chilled for a moment before warmth returned and Cas set something on the bedside table. A nose, then a tongue, teased his jaw. “Want some water?”   
     “Yes,” Dean gasped.   
     The cool bottle was refreshing as he levered himself upright a little, and gulped half the contents. He set the bottle back and squirmed back underneath the sheets, and discovered Cas had put his pants back on. He gathered Cas close so they were nose to nose, lips within easy distance.      His eyes were drifting closed, the intense blue of Cas’ mere inches away.   
     “Love you, Cas.”   
     There was silence for a moment, and Dean’s heart froze. His eyes snapped open, and he met Cas’ stunned expression.   
     “Uhh, I mean…” Dean dissembled.   
     Cas put a forefinger to Dean’s lips. “Shh. I love you too.”   
     The kiss they shared before drifting to sleep was the sweetest yet.

  
 _Had to go in to work. Talk to you later. Love you. -C_  
     Dean picked up the note and smiled. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and tucked the note into his wrinkled trousers. It was early afternoon, and he felt he could deal with that asshole Michael today. All these stupid games were pathetic. He would talk to the guy, then walk away. That was it. Done.   
     A few minutes later, pulling away from the traffic lights, he felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He had put it on silent last night, and as it rang his first thought was Please be Cas. He couldn’t answer it safely, and kept on toward home.   
     He parked the Impala in the drive, and stepped out. Fumbling for the door keys, he fitted the right one and remembered the phone call.   
     He yanked out his phone and saw the missed call that was, indeed, from Cas. No message though.   
     An arm came from behind and locked around his throat. His phone went flying as he scrabbled against the iron band.   
     “Hello Deano,” came the drawling whisper. A mask covered his nose and mouth, cool sharp air flooded his lungs and he grew dizzy, vision greying out. He tried to pull it away, but all of his strength was failing.   
     Everything went black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where is Dean?

Castiel scowled at his phone as it once again went through to message bank. He stood in the detritus of his surgery and clenched his fists. Someone had broken in and trashed the place.  
He stared in frustration at the fridges that were always locked, now swung open, most of the contents destroyed. Jo sat on a low stool, a checklist in hand, ticking off each item that remained, touching them as little as possible.  
Castiel righted a chair and closed the cabinets that contained their surgery packs, fortunately untouched. A knock at the front door had Jo glancing up, and him racing for it. Maybe it was Dean? They had called in the break in.  
But no. It was Anna and a tired looking Kevin. He unlocked the door and let them in.  
“Castiel.” Anna greeted him seriously, before she stared around her with wide eyes. The computer screen was smashed, printer on the floor. Kevin headed into the surgery, and he let out a small sound.  
“I think I figured it out,” Jo called out.  
“Figured out what?” Anna glanced at Castiel.  
“What was stolen,” Castiel said grimly.  
“Gas anaesthetic.”  
Castiel stared sightlessly at the mess as his brain scrambled over the information he was given. He called Dean’s number again and it went through to message bank.  
“Did Dean come in this afternoon?” Castiel asked Kevin.  
“The Sheriff? Hrmm. No don’t think so.”  
“When is he due on for shift?”  
“Not until six.”  
“He’s not answering his phone.”  
“He might be still sleeping?”  
“Jo? I’m going by Dean’s house.”  
“What about all this?” Jo protested.  
“I will be back,” Castiel insisted and headed out to his car.

He drove past his place first but the Impala was gone. He drove straight to Dean’s and his heart leapt into his throat to see the black beast in the driveway. Maybe he really was just sleeping.  
Castiel got out and shut the door. He had Dean’s front door key, given to him when they had decided everything was gonna work and he used it now to get into the house.  
“Dean?”  
He could hear a distant bark.  
“Max?”  
He headed through the house to the back patio. Max was in her sealed off kennel jumping up with her paws plastered to the wire. He let her out and she fawned over him for a moment. When she calmed down, Castiel soothed her trembling body with his palms.  
“Where’s daddy, huh?” She shivered under his touch. “Where is he?”  
Castiel pulled out his phone again and called Dean’s number. His head jerked up as he heard a distant buzzing. He scrambled into the house, Max at his heels as he searched for the phone.  
“Dean?”  
Nothing.  
He walked further in. It buzzed louder.  
A faint light glowed under the couch. On hands and knees he reached for it as Max nosed after him, probably wondering what game he was playing.  
Five missed calls. All from him.  
He slipped his thumb over the phone. Passcode. Birth year. Cas smiled slightly. Bingo.  
The smile faded when he saw the recent text messages. His chest went ice cold and he pressed his fingers to his heart.  
“Oh Dean. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel’s first step was to ring the clinic. “Jo? Put Kevin or Anna on.”  
_“What’s going on?”_  
“I will explain later.”  
_“Doc? What’s happening?”_ Kevin’s voice came through the phone speaker.  
“Dean’s missing. I’m at his house. His car is here. Max was still in her kennel and his phone was under the couch. It looks bad.”  
_“Whoah, whoah.”_ Kevin drawled. _“Hang on, man. He could just be over with his folks.”_  
“No. He’s not.” Castiel said fiercely. “Trust me he’s not. Meet me at the station.”  
“But we are still dealing with stuff here.”  
_“Damn it, Kevin. Meet me at the station!”_  
“Okay, okay!”  
Castiel hung up. “Come on, Max. Not leaving you here, sweetheart.” He collected her lead, snapped it on, and headed for the front door. He took a last look around and shut the door.  
His only thought was ‘Dean. Have to find Dean’.

Kevin and Anna were waiting for him at the station.  
“Okay what’s going on, Castiel?” Anna asked him.  
Silently, Castiel handed over the phone, opened to the text messages from the anonymous number. Anna read them with a scowl.  
“What the hell is this?”  
“Dean received those last night. While he was on duty.” Castiel tapped the time. “He didn’t say anything?”  
“No. Who are they from?”  
“Michael Milligan.” Castiel watched Anna’s face carefully.  
She went pale. “What? No. That’s ridiculous.”  
“He’s an ex boyfriend of Dean’s.”  
“What are you trying to say?” Kevin had joined them at the counter, was scanning the texts.  
“I think Michael came here to find Dean. Now he has him.”  
“I’m going to settle this right now.” Anna picked up the station phone, typed in the number, waited and frowned.  
“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.  
Anna thumbed the conference button.  
“…has been disconnected. Please hang up, check the number and try again.”  
“Maybe I got it wrong.” Anna rechecked and punched the numbers to the same result.  
“When did you see Dean last?” Kevin asked Castiel.  
“I went to work at one thirty this afternoon.”  
“So, its been…” Kevin checked the time. “Three hours?” The two deputies glanced at each other.  
Castiel narrowed his eyes.  
“Three hours is not really enough time for someone to be considered… missing.” The deputy continued.  
The phone rang loudly on the empty dispatcher desk. Anna walked over to pick it up.  
“Really?” Castiel arched a dark brow. “Just how long should I wait to walk back in here and present the evidence?”  
“Uhh,” Kevin shifted awkwardly. “Forty eight hours, usually.”  
“So you won’t help?”  
“Well, I mean, I’m sure the Sheriff is somewhere easily explainable. And his phone fell out of his pocket. And if he doesn’t show up for his shift, we will call.”  
Castiel grabbed Dean’s phone and pushed back from the bench. He rammed his glasses back up his nose and glanced down at Max who sat panting on his food. “Come on. We gonna go find your daddy.”  
“Mister Singer, I’m really sorry to hear that. Could you describe the vehicle?”  
Castiel glanced over when he heard Anna’s tone. Something was wrong.  
“Are you certain it was…it was green?” Anna glanced up at Kevin, and her gaze traced across toward Castiel. “And the driver?”  
Castiel headed back to the counter. He watched Anna close her eyes as though she were in pain.  
“I understand. I will have Officer Tran out to take your statement right away, sir.” Anna hung up after confirming address details. “A man matching the description of Michael Milligan was seen driving a vehicle that ran Bobby Singer off the road an hour ago.”  
Castiel’s jaw clenched. “Where?”  
Anna hesitated. “There is no evidence that Dean is with Mister Milligan.”  
“He ran a man off the road, Anna. He ran Bobby off the road. If you think there is the smallest chance that Dean is with him and he is taking him somewhere… somewhere that’s…” Castiel couldn’t finish the sentence. “Don’t you think we should at least check it out?”  
The two deputies glanced at each other. Anna was the first to say, “I suppose it won’t hurt to check it out. Just… swing by and see what’s what.”  
“I’m coming,” Castiel said flatly.  
“Castiel…”  
“Anna. Please.”  
Anna swallowed nervously and looked at Kevin. He shrugged.  
“Alright. Alright. I’m sure this will be nothing, and Dean is going to laugh at all of us for panicking.”  
“Good. I’m okay with him laughing at me.”

The road out toward Bobby Singer’s property was winding. Castiel followed the sheriff’s truck in his, Thor perched up on the passenger seat, joyful with the sudden ride. Max was curled up on a cushion on the back seat.  
He rounded a corner and pulled up behind the sheriff’s truck, now flashing its warning lights. A beat up old Ford was perched front end down in a ditch, the fender crumpled by a rusted barrier.  
The bearded, flannel clad figure of Bobby Singer was perched on the flatbed of Ellen Harvelle’s truck. She was holding a cloth to his forehead and lecturing him loudly.  
“You just stay put Bobby Singer.” Ellen grabbed him with a strong hand and yanked him back when he looked like he was going to stand.  
“Stop grabbing at me, woman,” Bobby growled.  
“You just keep that ass seated and no movin’ until you are told otherwise.” Ellen gripped his bicep. “You could have died, you old fool.”  
“Yeah well, I didn’t. No thanks to that idjit in that goddamn four wheel drive.” Bobby glared at Kevin and Anna. “You lot took your sweet ass time.”  
“My apologies, Mister Singer.” Kevin took out his notebook. “Now what can you…”  
“Was there someone in the car with him?” Castiel interrupted.  
“Doctor Novak,” Anna snapped, stepping up between Bobby and Castiel. “You agreed.”  
“Bobby, was there someone in the car that ran you off the road?” Castiel repeated, ignoring Anna.  
“Couldn’t really tell what with getting, I don’t know, run off the damn road, boy,” Bobby snapped.  
“Please, sir. Try to think back,” Castiel insisted earnestly.  
“What’s this about?” Bobby looked blearily from one to the next.  
“Nothing,” Anna said hurriedly. “It’s just…”  
“Dean’s missing,” Castiel said flatly. “And the guy who ran you off the road has been stalking him and threatening him the past couple of days.”  
Bobby’s eyes flashed dangerously. He stood up, despite Ellen’s protest, and pointed at Kevin. “The Winchester boy is in trouble and ya didn’t think this was worth mentioning?”  
“There’s no proof…” Kevin tried.  
“That’s crap.” Bobby narrowed his eyes. “Ya’ll couldn’t find yer arses with both hands. You wanna live the rest of ya lives knowin’ that Dean was hurt but at least ya followed the rules?”  
Castiel smiled gratefully at Bobby as the two deputies shuffled their feet.  
“If he was headin’ out this way, he don’t figure on takin’ Dean, if he has him, all the way back to the city. Out here is just more open space, but plenty of olEllen? You an’ me, we’re goin’ the west road.” Bobby pointed accusingly at the deputies. “You two wet behind the ears uniforms keep trekking north, and Cas? Can that truck of yours handle rough gravel?”  
Castiel wobbled his hand. “Depends how soft.”  
“Blue Ridge Road is unsealed and a bit rough, but ya shouldn’t get bogged. It’s been dry enough. Ya might vibrate ya arse all over the place some.”  
“It’s fine.” Castiel nodded, and studied the gruff man with amusement, and how easily he had assumed command of the situation, even bossing around the suddenly. He could stand to learn from that.  
With a scruff of Thor’s broad head, Castiel reseated himself. He stared through the windscreen at the others, and their cars peeled off to the directions Bobby had instructed.  
Castiel followed Bobby until the sign for ‘Blue Ridge Rd’ popped into view. He swung onto the track and kept his fingers crossed that one of them would see the four wheel drive.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hurt.

Fuck.   
He hurt.   
Shard of fucking pain spiking through his eye.  
He gasped a breath through lips that felt dry as sandpaper.   
He groaned.   
“Awake are we?”   
Dean stiffened, and found he couldn’t move far. Arms and legs bound. A vibration shuddered up through his neck as he pressed his forehead against cool glass.   
“What the fuck is this asshole doing? Driving like a fucking grandpa.” The voice was a vicious snarl.   
Dean felt the judder of the vehicle and tried to open his sticky eyes. They were covered.   
With movements that made his head pound from the effort he managed to slid the blindfold up enough to see he was in the backseat of a four wheel drive. Michael sat in the front, leaning forward. Dean craned his neck to see.   
He knew that truck.   
“Bobby…” he rasped.   
“You know this asshole?” Michael snarled.   
There was another shuddering jerk. Michael gripped the steering wheel hard and his profile was a dark smile.  
“No…” Dean stared in horror at the sight of Bobby Singer’s truck plow into the metal barrier and arc down into a ditch. He closed his eyes. “No.”   
“Shouldn’t have gotten in my way, Deano.”   
“You’re insane,” Dean snapped.   
“I’m a whole lot of things,” Michael said softly. “But at the end of the day, a fancy sheriff is all tied up in the back of my car. So I guess joke’s on you.”   
“This isn’t a fucking joke,” Dean spat. “You kidnapped an officer of the law. You think you are just walking out of this?”   
“Do you?” Michael smiled beatifically over his shoulder at Dean. “You thought you could just walk away from me?”   
“It’s been fucking years. Why the hell now?”   
Michael shrugged easily. “Felt like it.”   
“God,” Dean groaned. “You are insane.” He flexed his hands, wrists twisting. “How far do you think you can get? I mean…jeezus. They are going to find out that I’m missing and come looking.”  
“Oh, I have plans, cutie pie. We are headed to a little place tucked away for a couple of nights, then getting a little lift from some friends.”  
“I’m not goin’ anywhere with you.”   
“You will, or I will kill you.” That shark like smile again. “I will kill you, then I will kill your mother, your father, and that… that… vet.”   
Dean closed his eyes.  
He had to get free.   
He had to.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one this time to prolong the torture!

As promised the road was tricky. His wheels barely grabbed the surface, but he slowed down which gave him the chance to skim the forest that now clamored by the side of the road.   
He couldn’t think why on earth Michael would take this road. There was nothing out here but forest. Surely, if he had Dean, he wanted somewhere he could get out and go?  
Thor rode with his nose pointed out the window, tongue lolling gleefully at the impromptu ride. Max nosed beside him, sniffing at the cool autumn air with approval.   
All Cas could see was forest. Forest. Forest. And more fucking forest. He wanted to go faster, but didn’t know where he was going faster to.   
“Please…please…please…” he uttered the mantra over and over.  
Thor started dancing on his front paws and barking madly. It echoed in the cab and set off Max. Thor stuck his nose back out the window, his bark carried in the breeze of their passing.   
“Thor? Hey, buddy. Give it a rest.” Castiel gripped the steering wheel tighter.  
Thor ignored him, adding a whine to his repertoire. Castiel glanced across at his dog. Thor was reacting as though he had found something. The paw dance was back, and he was making low sounds in his throat.  
The back of his neck prickled and he slowed the truck.   
His hand itched to pick up his phone, but he couldn’t. Not until he was sure. Thor had his nose pointed back down the road and was snuffling deeply at the air. Max was jumping on him but she was being ignored.  
Running on gut instinct, Castiel slowed the truck and turned it around to head back the way he had come. He turned down the window in the back with a push of a button.   
“Find Dean,” he said to Thor. “Thor, where’s Dean?”   
Thor scrambled over the front seat to the back, Max bounding after him. He quivered, nose to the wind.   
He barked sharply before Castiel had gone more than a hundred yards. Castiel drew to a halt, yanked the keys out of the ignition and jumped down. He let out the dogs and stared around him, willing …anything to be here that told him where Dean was.   
Thor had his nose in the air, limbs trembling. It was isolated here, making Castiel uneasy. This one gravel road. Trees right up to the side, undergrowth that made it impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction.   
He gripped the phone harder.   
No. He had to be sure he had something so he wouldn’t feel like such a moron.   
Maybe Michael had turned off the track here? If was in a four wheel drive, it might handle it.   
On foot, Castiel trekked backwards over the road he had just traveled. Watching both sides of the track, he scanned the trees. Too thick. To hard to get through. Then…  
How could he have missed it?   
Two deep gouges in some gravel at the edge of the road. A vehicle had driven off the road here, into some scrub that he could now see had been disrupted.   
Thor nosed into the bush, Max following but distracted. Castiel hopped the shallow ditch and went a few yards in.   
His heart went cold.


	12. Chapter 12

Earlier…

Michael was whistling merrily and that, more than the open window, chilled Dean’s blood.  
He could see where they were going. That Michael hadn’t stopped and re-blindfolded Dean made him concerned that Michael didn’t care that he knew where he was.  
Blue Ridge Road. It circled up to the old quarry. There was a handful of hunting shacks up here, most derelict now. He twisted his hands harder against the heavy tape, the skin stinging, desperation making him not care.  
“Hang on to your hat, Deano. We are taking things off road.”  
The thump had him airborne for a moment, driving the air out of his lungs, his head striking the door handle so hard he saw stars.  
“Whoa, shit,” Michael muttered.  
“Asshole, you have dropped the fucking axle haven’t you?” The juddering loaned some truth to Dean’s words. He watched the steering wheel wobble in Michael’s hands as the other man fought for control. “Nice plan, moron.”  
Michael snarled his frustration and slammed his foot on the brake. “Fuck! Shut the fuck up!” He turned off the ignition and threw the keys in anger. He pulled the gun that was tucked into his waistband and held it in one hand as he opened the back door.  
Dean wished the guy had shot his fucking balls off with all these fancy maneuvers, but with the barrel shoved into his face, he knew it was wishful thinking. He held up his bound hands.  
“Whoa, whoa.”  
“Get out.”  
“My legs are tied.”  
“Fuck.” Michael stomped around the back of the car, then to the other side. He opened the door, and pulled a switchknife from his back pocket. He sliced the duct tape binding Dean’s lower legs and gestured. “Out.”  
Dean wriggled and crawled toward the gun toting madman. He struggled to the edge of the seat and dropped down to the ground with a wobble.  
“Now walk.” Michael shoved him.  
Dean stumbled, struggling to find his feet in the soft ground and low undergrowth.  
“Come on, Michael. It’s done. The car is broken. If you ever gave a damn about me, let me go.”  
“You don’t get it, Deano. I’m never letting you go.” The shove between Dean’s shoulder blades had him stumbling again. “Now walk.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length of these chapters. But they are going to come a lot faster. I wanted to really torture the readers. I mean... ahem... maintain the pace and tension of the story. 
> 
> *Sith handwaves*  
> Nothing to see here. Move along. 
> 
> And kudos and comments are the life blood of a writer. Even if you didn't like this fic, please leave love, even just a few words for your faves. It means more than you can know!

Castiel scrambled toward the car that was perched amongst the undergrowth. He gripped the car door edge and swung around, eyes wild.   
Nothing.   
He scanned the woods, yanking the phone out of his pocket. He growled in frustration at the lack of signal. Instead he typed out a message, and sent it to both Kevin and Anna, hopefully it would pick up a signal as he was walking.   
Castiel headed back to his truck. He yanked a day pack from the back seat and a couple of bottles of water, shrugging through the handles and settling it comfortably. He had a basic map of the area - nothing like his search maps, but it would have to do. He tucked a pencil to mark the map into his pocket.  
He would find Dean. He had to. He gave a short whistle.   
Thor perked up his ears.   
“Hey buddy. This is Dean.” Castiel patted the backseat. He hoped there was enough. “This is Dean.” Thor jumped into the back, nose to the rough fabric of the seat, snuffling wildly. “Find Dean. This is Dean. Find Dean.”   
Thor gave a final sniff and hopped out of the car. He tilted his nose to the air. Castiel scanned the ground. There were marks that might be footsteps. It was hard and dry here. But they might be footsteps.   
Thor backed up his theory by scrambling through the undergrowth, a curious Max at his heels. He wasn’t distracted though, just kept up a steady pace, pushing aside low branches with his solid body. Castiel had more trouble. He was wearing his work shoes and they didn’t have the same grip as his hiking books, but he made decent time.   
Thor focused on a spot and barked once, a low yip that was his “I got something.”   
Castiel caught up and smiled a little. A handkerchief. Old and grease stained with a tattered edge. He knew that handkerchief. He had laughed at Dean for it. And now thanked God that Dean hadn’t listened to him. A safety blanket of sorts, as well as a good luck talisman, Dean had carried it with him since his first months at college. It was now caught in the prickly branches of a shrub.   
Castiel untangled it.   
“Hey Thor. This is Dean.” He was more confident now. “Find Dean.” Thor snuffled at the handkerchief, enthused, tail wagging. Max sat on her fluffy hindquarters, her natural enthusiasm tempered by Thor’s serene temperament.   
Castiel wondered briefly if she could be made into a good search and rescue dog. Though little, she was quick to learn.  
Thor was off again, and Castiel thanked any deity listening now, that it wasn’t long since Dean had passed this way, and the day had been cool with hardly any breeze.   
His phone pinged as they neared a small ridge.  
“Thor. Hold.” His dog returned, a puzzled expression on his face.  
Castiel checked the screen. His messages had been sent a few minutes ago, and the reply of:   
Stay put. We will be there in thirty.   
Castiel grimaced and updated them on his approximate position based on the map he was following. He also asked, given that, where was Michael going? He didn’t know these forests that well.  
And he asked himself: Why the hell had Michael gone off the road right there? I mean, sure the area had less trees and shrubs - but it’s not like there was a road. Maybe someone had given him bad directions, or he overestimated the city four wheel drive’s capabilities.   
He followed Thor, marking their last turn on the map. The dog still looked sure though. When Thor signaled again, Castiel caught up and his throat tightened. A small bush was crushed, and when Castiel knelt down to touch the soft ends of the branches, he drew his hand back and studied the red smears on his finger tip.   
“Fuck. Dean.”   
Thor looked at him with pleading doggy eyes and whined.  
“It’s okay, boy.” Castiel wiped his hand down his thigh and straightened. “You are doing well. So good.” Max nudged her way behind his knee, and he bent down to scruff her floppy ears. “We got this. We are gonna find Dean.”

An hour later, Castiel was certain Thor had lost the scent. He had been slowly circling for the past ten minutes. Castiel had tried to refresh the scent for him but it didn’t seem to work.   
He rubbed his brow.   
“It’s okay, buddy, we will trek back. See if you can pick it up again.” Castiel tried to keep all impatience and frustration out of his voice.   
Castiel backtracked toward the ridge, the forest a blanket around the senses. Out there was Dean. Out there was the man he loved so completely and utterly. He couldn’t leave until he had found him. Couldn’t leave until he knew he was safe.  
The phone rang in his pocket. He tugged it out.   
“Yeah?”   
_“Where are you?”_ Anna asked abruptly.   
“I’m heading back towards the ridge. Thor lost the scent, so I need to track back to where we had it last. Where’s Ellen?”   
_“She and her dog are with me. They have the scent from the car. From your position we are about a thousand yards south of you."_    
“Good. Where’s Kevin?”   
_“Taken Bobby back into town to the hospital. He is going to get backup.”_  
Castiel closed his eyes in relief.   
“Good,” he croaked.   
_“We will find him, Castiel. I know we will.”_   
“I know.” Castiel hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He glanced down at a dejected looking Thor and patted him on the head. “It’s alright, buddy. We will find him.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for Ch14-15. Michael gets violent and does bad stuff to Dean. I don't go into detail but if you don't like blood, torture and general badness - you won't like these chapters.

Dean wearily stumbled onto the planked frontage of the run down hunting shack. He leaned his forehead against the rough wood, breath rasping as Michael tested the door handle and opened it.   
“In,” Michael snapped.   
The going had been tough. Dean mentally promised himself that if he was getting out of this, he was going to go running with Cas. He wanted to do everything with Cas. He wanted the chance to love Cas.   
A strong, elegant hand grabbed his jacket front and yanked him in. Without his hands to balance himself, still bound behind him, he tripped on the uneven flooring and grunted as his breath was knocked out of him.   
“Fucking hell…” he groaned and rolled onto his side.   
A huge hand came out of the gloom and gripped him by the shirt front again. He was hauled upright. Michael was stronger than he ever remembered, throwing him around like he weighed nothing.  
He was jammed against the wall, a hand at his throat, and Michael’s handsome, twisted features loomed close.   
“Look at that pretty face, Deano.” With the backs of his knuckles Michael trailed them down the hard ridge of his cheekbone and jaw. Dean jerked his head away, sickness roiling in his gut.   
Michael tightened his grip and slammed Dean against the wall again. From his pocket, he withdrew a switchblade and flipped it open. The sharp edge pressed against Dean’s cheek.   
“So pretty.” His breath washed over Dean’s face.   
Dean closed his eyes. 

Best day ever.   
The air smelled good. Fresh.   
The ground was soft underfoot, and full of glorious smells. She wanted to dig. She wanted to investigate everything.   
The Castielhuman wasn’t doing it right though. He was walking too fast. But he was kind. Max liked him. His pockets had treats. She scrambled over a log to follow Thor-dog, her paws scrabbling on the soft wood.   
Oh.   
Oh, what was that?  
Her ears went up.   
Deanhumanpackleader. He was there on the wind.   
She tilted her head and cheerily barked a greeting.   
“Max. Come on.” Castielhuman smelled of frustration and sadness.   
How could he be sad?  
Deanhumanpackleader was over there. In the other direction Castielhuman was walking. She knew Castielhuman was part of his pack but didn’t he want to go to Deanhumanpackleader?  
Thor-dog had his tail down.   
Max barked again and Thor-dog glanced back.   
Max sniffed the air again and bounded off the log.   
“Max!” She heard Castielhuman shout. But every instinct prickled. Her ears perked again, and her blood went hot.   
Her packleader was bleeding.   
Her packleader was hurt.   
Her teeth bared.   
She could smell the other now.   
She was going to protect her packleader. 

Castiel turned on his heel as he saw Thor take off after Dean’s little dog. He considered shouting to get them back. Maybe it was just a damn rabbit.   
He thundered through the forest after the dogs, knocking aside tree branches and giant ferns. His thighs burned, and he slid on the thick undergrowth.  
“Thor!” he called when he lost sight of his dog.   
An answering bark just up ahead had him moving.   
This wasn’t a rabbit.   
Max had found Dean. He knew it.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel chased the two dogs up the rise, and collapsed to his knees. Thor was pacing uneasily back and forth, nose in the air. Max gave him a cheerful slobber on the chin and nosed under his arm.   
He stared uneasily down at the hunting cabin that squatted low in the clearing. Was this it? He looked down at Max.   
“You sure, honey?” He scratched her between the ears. She yipped in reply.   
ARRRRHHHHHHHHH!  
The cry echoed through the trees. Castiel’s head snapped up and his throat went tight. Max jerked her head around, a low sound snarling out of her throat.  
Max charged toward the building, barking her head off, a mini hell-hound of sound and fury.

Dean made a sound low in his throat. Pain sharded through his spine.   
He could distantly feel the slide of blood down his face.   
Michael was sitting back on his haunches. Dean had slid down the wall to collapse on the floor.   
“You look a lot less pretty now, Deano. You think that veterinarian will look at you twice now?” Michael reached out and slapped Dean across the face.   
Dean’s head jerked to the side and then his chin dropped to his chest. “It’s only gonna take once,” Dean said softly, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. “You superficial, fucking insane prick.”   
“You know, I can’t decide.” Michael held up the knife again, light glinting off the blade. “I really just wanted to end you for leaving me. Now I kind of want to let you live with those good looks all carved up.”   
Dean stared fiercely at Michael. “I don’t fucking care. You let me walk out of here I will end you. I will fucking take you down.”   
“Aww.” Michael smirked and leaned forward. “I haven’t decided yet. I still want to hear you scream.”   
The blade flashed.

The second scream had Castiel on his feet. He slipped and slid over the ground, pursuing the madly barking mini-canine. Thor passed him like a streak of chocolate coloured lightning. His chest burned.

Dean wanted to weep.   
He wanted to be far away from here.   
He wanted to be home.   
He wanted to wrap Cas up in his arms and never let him go.   
Instead here the pain was bright and white.   
ARK! ARKARKARKARK! ARK!ARKARK!  
The sound shouldn’t be there.   
He knew that bark.   
How the hell was the sound there?

Castiel slammed into the front door of the hunting hut. The door buckled under his fury.   
His rage was white hot and his only focus was on the red splattered man standing with a knife in his hand, eyes wide with shock. Castiel stalked forward, shoes a heavy thud on the floor, resounding heavier than they should.   
Michael dropped the knife, and yanked the gun out from the back of his waistband. He was lifting it up when Castiel moved with unearthly grace and knocked it out of his hand.

Max threw herself on Dean, whining and barking. Dean’s head lolled, battered, bruised and cut. He tilted his head back and through the haze that was his vision, he winced first at the flare of light from the doorway, then his mouth dropped open as Cas seemed to flow around Michael.   
Dean wanted to warn Cas about Michael’s strength, wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came from his throat but a groan.   
Cas needed no warning.   
The gun was wrested first from Michael’s fingertips and tossed aside. Michael swung at him, but Cas wasn’t there to be swung at. He slipped under Michael’s arm, with a tug and a helping sweep to the front of his shin, he stumbled.   
Michael righted himself and turned, eyes narrow with rage. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”   
Cas didn’t speak, merely waited on balanced stance, his hands up, open palm. When Michael charged, Castiel dropped, kicked out at Michael’s knee which buckled backwards at an ugly angle, and helped him down to the ground with a hand between his shoulder blade.   
Michael’s head cracked sickeningly and he moaned quietly as Castiel knelt between his shoulder blades. Cas waited a few seconds, before lifting his eyes.   
“Hello Dean.”   
“Cas?” Dean asked weakly.   
“Yes?  
“I fucking love you.”   
Castiel nodded solemnly. “That is fortuitous because I seem to love you too.”

Several minutes later, Michael was bound, a phone call was made and Dean was released from his bindings, wrapped tightly in Castiel’s arms.   
This was how Anna and Ellen found them, seated on the floor, dogs guarding their humans, and a cursing Michael hogtied and gagged several feet away.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished. 
> 
> My thanks to the beautiful Tee for her muse and beta reading! #BEBT love!

Dean limped downstairs.  
He could hear the clatter of dishes from his kitchen and curiosity got the better of him. He had been examining his healing wounds in the bathroom mirror, and considered it could have been worse.  
They would heal.  
He would heal.  
And he had Cas.  
Thor was sprawled in the hallway, and watched him with brilliant eyes. Max was perched at her side, a rawhide chew in her mouth, her gaze full of adoration.  
“What’s Cas doin’ huh?” Dean patted both hounds and they followed him to the doorway of the kitchen.  
He leaned against the frame and watched Cas work. The guy was making pie. Sunlight lilted in through the kitchen window and turned all the flour in the air into floating gold dust.  
His lean, perfect hands laid slices of apple into a precisely rolled pastry pan. Dean smiled faintly. It still pulled his stitches when he grinned, so Castiel had done his best to ensure it wouldn’t happen. Unsuccessfully.  
On bare feet, Dean padded forward as Castiel slid the pie into the oven and wrapped his arms around Cas’ middle.  
“Hey you.”  
“Hey.” Dean rested his chin on Cas’ solid shoulder.  
“How you feeling?”  
“Like a hug.”  
Castiel turned in his arms and dusting off his hands, he raised them to Dean’s chest, wary of touching his face with the injuries. Dean folded him close and breathed in the scent of pie, his shampoo and something that was just Cas. Castiel’s hands went cautiously around his neck.  
“I’m not gonna break, Cas.”  
Castiel studied his face. “You are beautiful.”  
“I look like Frankenstein.” Dean smiled ruefully.  
“You are beautiful,” Cas repeated and carefully skimmed his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone.  
“I should lock you down before you change your mind,” Dean drawled.  
Castiel’s chin tilted. “What do you mean?”  
Nerves churned in Dean’s gut. “Look, Cas, I have been in love with you for freaking… years.”  
“What?” Castiel blinked. “How? Really?”  
Dean continued as though Cas hadn’t spoken. “I know we wanted to take it slow. But if there is one thing with …what happened …I want to tell you…” Dean grasped Castiel’s sweater in his fists, scrunching the fabric.  
“Tell me what?” Castiel pressed softly.  
“I want to marry you. I want you and your dog to move in here. Or if you want, we can get a new place. Or…old. Or I don’t know. I don’t care. You are incredible. You saved my life. You saved me.” Dean chewed on his lower lip.  
“You belong with me.” Castiel shrugged. “You are my pack.” He half smiled. “And yes.”  
Dean took a deep breath. “I know that my hours are weird. And there is still the court case with Michael. But …if you could be okay with that…”  
“Dean. Yes.” Castiel lightly curved his palms over Dean’s face.  
“Yes?”  
“Yes.”  
Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Castiel and tears shimmered brightly. “Good.” His voice was rough. “Good…”  
Their lips met as the scent of baking apple pie coiled rich and sweet around their senses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done. My thanks for joining me on this ride and taking the time to send me a message telling me how much you liked it! 
> 
> <3 to you all.


End file.
